


Dysfunctional

by john_bellamy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Child Abuse, Crimes & Criminals, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mechanics, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mentions of Underage, Opposites Attract, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-23 07:50:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17076305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/john_bellamy/pseuds/john_bellamy
Summary: Bellamy's soulmate tattoo appears on his eighteenth birthday just like everyone else. Clarke's was romantic, 'You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen'. A year later and she meets Lexa. Octavia's was simple, but sweet, 'it's pouring out, take my coat.'. A month later she met Lincoln.'Touch me again, and I'll fucking end you." That's what Bellamy wakes up to on his forearm. Not exactly the present he was waiting for. Those will be the first words his soulmate speaks to him. A year passes. Then two, three, and now he's twenty-six and no soulmate. It's just the cherry on top of the shit sundae that has been his life. He's kicked out of academy, loses his apartment, his only saving grace is that Clarke lets him crash on her couch and Raven pulls some strings to get him a job with her at the garage she works at. There he meets Murphy, a sullen, silent brat who Raven tells him never got his soulmate tattoo. Bellamy works there for months and Murphy never says a word, until Bellamy fucks up, and Murphy finally speaks.Angsty soulmate AU that no one asked for. Sue me.





	1. Chapter 1

"Bellamy."

No answer.

"Bell."

No answer.

"Bellamy!" She shouts this time and Bellamy jerks upright on the couch with a startled exhale. His hair is a mess and his eyes are still grimy with sleep. 

"Wassat?" He grumbles, combs his fingers through his curly hair. Clarke looks down at him with a disapproving look, her arms crossed over her chest. She's just come from work, he can tell by her messy bun and the fresh stains on her baby blue scrubs. She frowns at him and motions for him to stand up. 

"Raven called. You were supposed to be at the shop fifteen minutes ago to help them put away the order." Bellamy throws himself back onto the couch with a loud groan.

"Fuck... I forgot about that..." He said heavily. Clarke looks at him for a moment longer before she just shakes her head and walks past the couch. Bellamy can feel the disappointment radiating off of her in waves. It's just another new low for him, having a girl his little sister's age looking at him like she was his mother and he was a small child that she was tired of scolding. When did his life turn into this? Into him crashing on his sister's former classmate's couch, avoiding her scary ass girlfriend like the plague. He'd say it all came crashing down when he was twenty five. No soulmate, so all he had was a foul phrase permanently on his arm, kicked out of the police academy for beating the ever loving shit out of his sister's deadbeat dad -pardon, his  _half_ sister's deadbeat bad. Without a job or a career he lost his apartment, slept in his car for two days, until Clarke forcefully dragged him into her apartment and put him up on her couch. He would have gone to Octavia, but she married Lincoln just two months after they met. They were soulmates after all, why wait? And then Lincoln had gotten a new station in Guam and whisked Octavia off away with him. And Bellamy was alone.

"I'm going, I'm going." He drags himself up off the couch. Clarke doesn't answer, but he hears her shutting a cupboard door a little aggressively. "I'm sorry, okay? I'll stay late tonight to make up for it." He tries to apologize. He can see Clarke stiffen, and take a deep breath. He can tell she's biting her tongue. She does that quite a bit he's noticed. He knows there would be many reasons to criticize him. 

"Don't apologize to me, Bell. Apologize to Raven. She's the one who vouched for you to even be hired. It's her who will get the short end of the stick if you fuck up." Her voice is clipped.

"Please, Raven has been there since day one, she'll be there till that shop falls apart." Bellamy doesn't mean to go on the defensive but he can't help it. Clarke turns to face him, her soft face pulled into a look of sympathetic frustration.

"I get that things are shitty, Bell, I do. You caught a charge, you got kicked out of the academy, and I get the soulmate thi-"

"Do you get it, Clarke? You have your soulmate. You're younger than me and you already have her. Octavia has Lincoln, Raven has Wick, and  _you_ have Lexa. Any girl I meet just looks at me with disappointment because I'm not their soulmate, anyone I do meet, all they can talk about is how things with me are just temporary, until they find their soulmate. You have it, you never were without it. So don't try and tell me that you get it." He snaps back savagely as he begins to grab his work shirt. Soulmates are a touchy subject for him. At first he told himself it would just come a little later for him. Now here he was, nearly eight years past eighteen and he hadn't ever had that spark, he had never had someone for his own. Other relationships were meaningless, just sex and affection. Anyone who chose to be with him never planned to stick around. Clarke's expression falls, she knows she's crossed a line. Bellamy is pissed now, tossing his shirt onto the couch as he pulls his work shirt over his head. She presses her thin fingers to her throbbing temple as Bellamy grabs his keys. 

"I didn't mean it like that..." It's a weak attempt from Clarke to end the fight before Bellamy leaves. She doesn't like to leave wounds open for too long. Bellamy ignores her as he makes for the door. Bellamy is used to fighting, used to harsh words spoken coldly, bridges burned. 

"I'll be home late tonight." He says sharply, and he punctuates his sentence with the loud slam of the front door behind him.

 

The shop is rather run down looking. But it's become a community staple. Anyone with a problem knows that they're the place to go to. The shop is run by a band of misfits, Bellamy is the eldest there. Raven, Wick, and Monty do most of the work on the cars. Raven is tall, slim, and scary as hell, even with a bum leg. She also handles the payroll and is the equivalent of an HR department, that is if an HR department's way of 'conflict resolution' was to confront anyone acting out of line and tear them a new one. Wick specializes in repairing old muscle cars and engine rebuilds. He's witty and quick thinking. Monty is quieter. At least when he doesn't show up toasted out of his mind with Jasper. If Monty and Jasper hadn't caught possession charges they wouldn't be stuck working at a shitty run down mechanics shop. But the charge ruined any chance of them getting scholarships and getting out of this town. But they had each other and that seemed to satisfy them. Bellamy couldn't be too sure of what Jasper's role was. He was just kind of there, fiddling with things, assisting with orders and dealing with the vendors. Everyone seemed to get along with the goofy kid, but Jasper was still smart enough not to let the vendors pull the wool over his eyes and upcharge them for parts and supplies. And then there was Murphy. Murphy was a sullen, pouting, rude little shit. At least from what Bellamy had inferred. They had never actually spoken. He had tried to speak to him on his first day, introduce himself, and Murphy had made it a dedicated point to completely ignore him. He had tried a few more times after, a cheerful good morning, or a 'how was your day off', and nothing. Now they existed in silence. Bellamy preferred it that way after Raven had told him a little more about him. Murphy was a brat. He picked fights, Bellamy learned that the scar on Murphy's face came from an altercation with his step father, Murphy had started a fight of some kind and attacked his step father and in defense his step father had broken a bottle on his face. Bellamy didn't blame Murphy's step father at all. He never saw Murphy smile, never heard him speak. He'd found out through the grapevine Murphy had been in juvie for two years for attempted arson, and he had made it a point to give him the cold shoulder after Jasper had let that slip. Murphy was always absent from the after work get together's at Raven and Wick's apartment. It made Bellamy understand why Murphy didn't have a soulmate mark. He was a despiseable person, who would ever want to be with someone like him?

 

It's a Thursday so the shop is staffed thinly. Bellamy parks in the back lots and jogs to backdoor into the workshop. Raven is the first to confront him, her lips pulled into a scowl and her hands on her hip. Her metal brace is secured tightly to her leg and for a girl nearly a head shorter than him, Bellamy is intimidated.

"About time you showed up, Blake." She snips. Bellamy stops in his tracks and sighs. He looks around and sees the boxes strewn around and feels a bit of guilt. He knows this would've been nearly done if he had been here. He spots Murphy sitting on the dirty floor next to a box. The kid has a split lip, fighting again it seemed. He catches Bellamy's eye and gives him the most chilling glare he's received in a long time. There's black oil smeared on his pale face and in his hair, Murphy never seems to be able to do anything around here without getting messy. 

"I know. I'm sorry." It's a weak apology. Raven sees right through it. 

"Murphy had to deal with oil changes  _and_ putting boxes away. I only have one good leg, Bell, and we count on having you here on truck days so we can get everything put away in good time." She sounds frustrated and Bellamy hates this, hates her tearing into him with Murphy of all people. Bellamy casts a look at him out of the corner of his eye. Murphy appears to be going through the box, but Bellamy can see the faintest trace of a smirk. It makes his blood fucking boil. He takes a breath and looks back to Raven.

"I know, and I'm sorry. It won't happen again." Bellamy speaks slowly and quietly. He doesn't want this to turn into a spectacle. Raven's shoulders sag and she appears to acquiesce. 

"Just... help put the rest away. I'll handle the phone for now." She gives in with a little sigh and the faint shake of her head. She turns and limps her way towards the door, leaving Bellamy alone in the workshop with Murphy.

Bellamy chooses a box on the opposite side of the shop. Some spark plugs and gaskets, they just need to be organized into the boxes. Bellamy can feel Murphy's eyes burning into the back of his skull from across the room. It's fifteen minutes before Bellamy speaks. He whirls around, curls falling into his eyes as he gives Murphy a sharp glare.

"If you've got something you want to say, say it. Like you've never fucking overslept." He snaps. Murphy lifts his gaze from the box to stare into Bellamy's freckled face. Even his eyes are cold, sharp, unfeeling. It unsettles Bellamy. Murphy seems like the sociopath type, the type to just watch as tragedy befalls others. Murphy doesn't speak. Bellamy sees the faint shadow of a black eye. Murphy's fingers are curled around the edge of the box and his knuckles are red and scabbed over. He looks at Bellamy with those unnerving pale eyes, meeting Bellamy's own gaze until finally Bellamy breaks eye contact and turns away. Murphy still doesn't speak. Bellamy is certain that Murphy is doing this on purpose. He feels like Murphy knows it unsettles him, he swears Murphy does this on purpose just to do this under his skin. Little fucking prick. He resumes his unpacking.

And then he fucks up. His phone buzzes in his pocket, so he stands from where he's kneeling at the bottom drawer and pulls his phone out. It's a message from Octavia. He smiles to himself as he slowly begins to walk towards the mini fridge. He's meaning to grab a water bottle from the fridge, and he reads as he walks. At the same time Murphy is crossing the workshop with an open box blocking his view. And they collide. Bellamy is a bit taller and stronger, he easily knocks Murphy over onto his box, and the box of individually packed bolts and nuts knocks him in the face and they go spilling across the oil stained floor of the workshop. Bellamy gasps and hastily shoves his phone in his pocket.

"Fuck!" He curses instinctively and before he can stop himself he's reaching down and gripping Murphy's upper arm and hauling him to his feet. Bellamy knows he's stronger than average, the time he spent in the academy helped him build muscle, but Murphy feels lighter than expected. He almost sends Murphy stumbling and the teen barely manages to steady himself. "I'll help clean them up, it's my bad." Bellamy doesn't realize until now that he's still gripping onto Murphy until the boy suddenly tears his arm out of Bellamy's grip. Before Bellamy can speak Murphy is gripping Bellamy's shirt and shakes him violently. And then he speaks.

"Touch me again, and I'll fucking end you." Bellamy's stomach fucking drops. The color drains from his face and he feels suddenly ill. Murphy looks at him suddenly in confusion, and he abruptly lets go of Bellamy. Bellamy's memorized the words on his arm by now, he can feel them as if they're burning beneath the long sleeves of his black work shirt. He feels hot yet cold, he feels like the air has been sucked from his lungs. "Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Murphy spits, but there's a faint look of concern in his eyes. It wasn't meant to be like this. No, no, not like this. There's a tight feeling of dread in his chest, and suddenly everything begins to spin, and then black...

 

"What the fuck did you do to him, Murphy?" A concerned voice is the first thing he hears. The first thing he feels is an excruciating headache.

"I didn't do anything, why do you always assume that I did something?  _He's_ the one who knocked  _me_ over!" That's Murphy's voice. Bellamy knows it now. It's fucking ingrained into his mind like someone branded it into him with hot iron. Him. A him. Not what Bellamy was expecting if he was being honest. "He knocked me over, pulled me up, I snapped at him, and then he fainted." Jesus Christ, he fucking fainted? 

"He might be sick..." Raven's voice chimes back in and as his eyes flutter open, her concerned face hovering over his. There's a look of relief on her face as his dark eyes flutter open. "Hey, do you feel alright? You smacked your head pretty hard." Bellamy can't bring himself to answer. He props himself up on his elbows and his eyes fall onto Murphy standing at his feet. Murphy. Fucking Murphy. It had to be a mistake. He doesn't even look concerned. Bellamy suddenly begins to claw at his sleeve, forcing it up his arm. 

"Fucking dumbass. He's given himself a concussion." Murphy scoffs, but Bellamy's eyes are glued to his arm. He reveals the black lettering on his arm, pores over it to make sure it's completely identical to what he's heard. It already looks lighter than it did before, it will fade slowly with time as soulmate marks do when their match is made. But Murphy didn't have a soulmate match, he didn't have a mark. At least that's what he has claimed to the others. It had to be a lie. Murphy had fucking known, that's why he didn't speak to Bellamy, somehow, someway, he had known. Bellamy suddenly leaps up and nearly knocks Raven over in the process.

"No mark, bullshit!" He grips Murphy's wrist and grips his sleeve. Murphy suddenly rips his wrist away from Bellamy with surprising strength. 

"What the fuck is your problem?!" He shouts. Bellamy feels Raven pulling at his shirt trying to pull him back. She's yelling something, probably trying to get him to back down. But it's muffled, there's a ringing in her ears and that panicked feeling from earlier was gripping his chest again.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." He can hear himself shouting at Murphy but it doesn't feel like him. He moves but he's not controlling himself. He grips Murphy by his shirt and suddenly has him pinned against the wall. He can see the sudden look of unhinged panic in Murphy's eyes but he can't stop himself. Murphy is pushing, punching his chest, but Bellamy can barely feel it in his panicked rage. "It wasn't supposed to be someone like you, I don't want someone like you, I don't want  _you_!" His voice is booming and he's trembling with fury. And it's cut short with a swift, precise punch to his jaw. Bellamy releases his hold on Murphy and claps his hand over his now throbbing jaw. Murphy's cheeks are flushed and his hair tousled and out of place. 

"What the fuck are you going on about?!" Murphy shouts back at him, but Bellamy can't bring himself to say it. That's when he hears Raven's trembling voice from behind them.

"Murphy... I think you're his soulmate match." Raven speaks up timidly. Murphy's face falls and he pales as Bellamy did. A thick silence falls, Murphy looks shaken, its the most emotion Bellamy's ever seen on his face.

"No. That's not possible. I don't have a mark. It's wrong." Murphy tries to sound confident but Bellamy can hear his voice crack, his facade caving. Bellamy's heart is in his throat and he feels as if he may be sick. It's stifling, the weight that suddenly weighs on his shoulders. They're all still until Murphy breaks the silence. "You're wrong, your mark is wrong. You don't want me, I don't  _have_ a match." His voice is strife with uncharacteristic sadness and raw emotion, nothing Bellamy expected for him. This is all too much for him. He wants to believe it's a mistake but the tingling sensation on his skin tells him otherwise. He needs to leave. He suddenly turns and makes for the door. Raven is calling out to him, she's telling him it's not wise of him to leave right now. He's heard about it before. At the time a match is made, mates are intended to spend that time together, strengthening their bond. But he doesn't want to strengthen their bond. He wants it to fade, he wants it to disappear, be as if it never existed. And so once again he punctuates his exit with the sound of a door slamming shut behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Updates might be slow, it's the holidays and I have work and stuff going on too but I will do my best. I'm a dirty little slut for comments so please leave feedback uWu sorry it's a little short but it's Christmas Eve. But we get to see some lowkey angsty Murphy so you're welcome. Please leave feedback I'll love you forever and respond to comments and questions in the next chapter! I love interacting with you guys!!

He gets in the car and just drives. He doesn't have a place in mind, he just peels out of the parking lot. He wants to put as much distance between himself and the shop as possible. The radio is playing but it just sounds like harsh noise in his ears. He vaguely remembers lashing out and punching the radio as hard as he could, abruptly cutting it off. He drives, and drives. It isn't fair. He doesn't really remember how it happens but he ends up in the attic of Clarke's house six deep into a twelve pack, wondering what he ever did to deserve this. All he's ever wanted is a soulmate. Someone to share his life with. He always imagined her in his head ever since he was a kid.  _Her_. Slender with curves, soft skin, a gentle smile and kind eyes... Murphy is all sharp angles and edges. There is nothing soft about him. His voice was deeper than Bellamy expected. Bellamy sees no kindness in his eyes, no trace of a smile, not even smile lines. Murphy is sullen, Bellamy's dream girl loves to laugh until her sides hurt. Bellamy's dream girl wants him. Bellamy's dream girl looks at him the way he sees Clarke look at Lexa. Clarke looks at Lexa as if she is the moon coming out on a cloudy summer evening. Clarke looks at Lexa as if Lexa is the epitome of all good and kindness there is in the world. Murphy looks at Bellamy like he's dogshit stuck on the bottom of his shoe. Bellamy tries to imagine sharing an intimate moment with someone as cold and emotionless as Murphy. Bellamy has always loved the feeling of a woman beneath him, feeling soft skin squirming beneath him as he presses kisses to skin that smells like floral sweet perfume. Murphy is aggression, Murphy is untapped anger. Bellamy felt it when Murphy punched him. Bellamy presses a cold can against his sore jaw. It sends jolts of pain shooting through his nerves, stirs up memories of Murphy, of dark eyes full of panic. Why panic? Murphy fights, he comes in with a split lip, black eyes, bruises and scrapes. Why was there panic in his eyes just over Bellamy's hands on him? Did he feel the same sparks, the excitement? Bellamy applies heavier pressure against the tender part of his jaw. The pain reminds of Murphy, how close they were, the black motor oil smeared on Murphy's forehead and hands. It unconsciously stirs something in his gut and Bellamy jerks the can away from his face and hastily swallows the beer down. Those type of thoughts aren't welcome.

"Hey." A quiet voice attracts his attention. Bellamy snaps his head up and sees Lexa. She's leaned up against the doorframe, looking down at him. He knows he looks like a mess. His hair is in shambles, he's sprawled out on the floor with a case of beer beside him and cans surrounding him. Lexa is still in her uniform. She cuts an impressive figure in tailored navy blue. Her hair is pulled up into a tight ponytail, sharp eyes lined with black liner. Her face is expressionless. There's silence in the room. She slowly closes the distance between them and sits herself down on the floor in front of him. Fuck, it must be getting late if she's home from work. They don't speak, Bellamy likes that about her. He reaches into the box and pops the tab on a can and offers it to Lexa. She takes it and gives him a nod of thanks. Bellamy gets one for himself and for awhile they sit in silence, drinking. "Clarke told me what happened." Lexa finally speaks. They're halfway done with their beers now. Bellamy inhales sharply and leans his head to rest against the dusty wall of the attic. "Raven called Clarke, Clarke called me, you know how things tend to get around here." Lexa reminds him, and it's true.

"It's just not fair." Bellamy instantly wants to punch himself in the face. He sounds like a whiny fucking teenager. Lexa doesn't look at him with sympathy. She just looks at him, and he appreciates that. 

"Yeah. You kind of got the short end of the stick." She puts it bluntly. Bellamy smirks pathetically and downs the rest of his beer in five seconds flat.

"He's just... How is he my soulmate? Raven said he doesn't have any type of soulmate mark. I've heard of people like that, but how can he be my soulmate if I'm not his because he doesn't have one. Also, why the hell is my soulmate a  _him_. I've never even looked twice at a guy." Bellamy is spilling his guts and it feels amazing. Lexa just shrugs and purses her lips before she takes a sip of her beer.

"It happens sometimes. Not often, but sometimes. Do you know why people don't get soulmate marks?" Lexa suddenly sounds curious, cocking her head to the side. Bellamy shakes his head, and Lexa continues. "I deal with a lot of psychology cases, and I've seen some cases of people without soulmate marks. Usually suicide attempts or reckless endangerment. What most people don't realize is that soulmate marks are very psychological. As a kid, didn't you always dream of having a soulmate, you were so excited to turn eighteen to see what your mark is, right?" Bellamy nods. Fuck, he remembered the thrill and the anxiety he felt when his eyes fluttered open on his eighteenth birthday and looking at his arm. He can't imagine waking up on his eighteenth birthday and seeing nothing.

"Well," Lexa continues. "If Murphy is anything like what I've seen, sometimes people don't see themselves as worthy of a soulmate. Usually comes from child abuse, rough backgrounds, so on and so forth. To put it simply, some people hate themselves so much, and see themselves worth so little, that they don't see how anyone could ever want them as a soulmate. It becomes such an ingrained part of someone's personality that they just... never get a mark. It's an invisible manifestation of complete and utter self hatred." Lexa finishes solemnly, and a silence fills the room. Bellamy feels like there's a weight on his chest. He lets out a long breath and reaches for another beer.

"That's...That's a lot to take in." He says quietly. Lexa reaches out and snatches the beer from him. 

"No more drinking. Get up. You're coming for a ride with me."

 

Lexa parks them on a shitty street in a shitty neighborhood. They're in her personal car, a sleek black accord that stands out among the run down vehicles. Bellamy peers through the window and sees a rundown looking house. The grass is overgrown and the front porch roof is sagging in. The porch light casts a dim glow onto the front porch and it gives Bellamy an eerie feeling in his gut. There's lights on in the house but the curtains are drawn, the occasional shadow crosses in front of it. They haven't spoken since parking, but Lexa turned the headlights out and they just sit there.

"We get domestic violence calls from this house every now and then. We've arrested the mom more than once, the step dad too, the son too. CPS used to be out here too, but the kid went to juvie, he was eighteen when he got out, so they stopped caring." The dreaded feeling in his gut grows and he stiffens as he sees the front door open. A figure emerges and he faintly hears loud voices floating to his ears, muffled. The sound of a door slammed. As the figure turns the porchlight casts onto him and Bellamy's throat goes dry. The angle of the light accentuates sharp cheekbones and pale skin, an all to familiar face. He watches as Murphy places something between his lips. He flicks his lighter and the orange glow reflects onto his face. He wants to speak, but he can't. Lexa does the talking for him.

"Clarke got the kid's name from Raven, passed it onto me. I committed a small violation of privacy and ran it to see if he's ever been in our system. Found the address, thought maybe this might help you understand things a little more."

"It doesn't." Bellamy scoffs. His tongue feels heavy. He feels like shit. "I feel like shit." Lexa sighs and settles into her seat. Bellamy's eyes are glued to Murphy, to the smoke floating around him in a heavy toxic cloud. He suddenly begins to second guess the bruises he dismissed as childish fighting. God, he was an assumptive asshole.

"He's still your soulmate, Bellamy. Even if he doesn't have the mark. You can ignore it, let the bond fade, but it will do more harm than good. You will never feel complete, your mark will fade. You can fuck, maybe even get married if you can find someone willing to overlook the fact that you're not their soulmate. But no one will ever connect with you like your soulmate." Lexa's tone uncharacteristically softens and Bellamy knows she's doing this for his own good.

"I've never done the whole guy thing... Was it weird, when you met Clarke?" He finally tears his eyes away from Murphy to look at Lexa. She's smiling. 

"I was with women before Clarke, you know? But for Clarke... It was different for her. But at the end of the day, male, female, in between, neither, soulmates aren't about gender. All that superficial shit, it just melts away when you're together. You see past everything, money problems, stress, drama, when you look at them, all you see is...her." She trails off and he knows she's thinking of Clarke. Lexa is a strong woman, she's a cop, intimidating and more confident than anyone he had ever met. But around Clarke she melted. Lexa would lay with her head in Clarke's lap for hours, Clarke's hands woven into Lexa's thick dark hair. Bellamy saw the way they looked at each other, the long gazes and gentle touches. He wondered if it would ever be like that with Murphy, but he could never imagine Murphy being vulnerable and open around another human being. He looks back to Murphy and sees that the teen has moved to sit on the steps. His head is tilted back, he's gazing up at the cloudy night sky, his cigarette dangling between his slender fingers. Bellamy suddenly has a terrible feeling that he's intruding on something private. Murphy looks different here. He looks peaceful, it's the first time Bellamy has seen him without a sullen scowl. His features soften away from the orange glare of the porchlight and Bellamy feels  _something_. A newly awakened part of his mind urges him to get out of the car and go sit in silence with Murphy looking at the stars that peek out from the cover of the clouds. But that would make him look like a stalker. Which technically he is, considering he's sitting in a car with tinted windows watching him. After a moment Murphy flicks his cigarette butt onto the sidewalk where it lands in a burst of orange sparks. He stands, turns, and disappears back through the door. The silence resumes until Lexa starts the car back up.

"Let's go home Bellamy. I'm sure you have a lot to think about..." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! This chapter is a little filler with mostly background on the whole soulmate thing but there will be a lot of Bellamy/Murphy interaction next chapter. I hope everyone had a good holiday and is looking forward to the new year!! Hopefully 2019 will be less miserable and a lot more gay. Leave comments, I love hearing feedback from you guys!! Hope you enjoy the chapter.

Bellamy has a dream that night. In his dream Murphy isn't sitting alone on the porch steps. Bellamy is beside him, and they're not on a front step, they're alone, under the stars. Murphy's head is resting on Bellamy's chest. He smells smoke and green apple shampoo. Murphy emanates warmth, his body fits perfectly against Bellamy's. There's a silence, but it's a comfortable silence. It's a feeling of completeness that Bellamy has never felt in his life. He's never been this close to Murphy before, save for when they had their altercation in the garage. He sees things he's never noticed about Murphy before. Murphy's eyes aren't blue. Well, they are, but they're not just blue. They're a shifting tidal wave of foaming ocean, flecks of grey. His eyes are a summer storm, full of foreboding darkness that overshadows the paleness of his irises. In it Bellamy sees an anger there, he feels a static friction that feels like lightning just before it strikes, prickling his scalp. He feels a deep rumble in Murphy's chest like the thunder that blossoms down from an angry sky. Murphy is many things Bellamy tries his best not to be. Murphy is from the same chaos Bellamy was dragged down by. Murphy isn't just from the chaos, Murphy is the chaos. Murphy is the rage Bellamy has been running from, the recklessness and spite. Bellamy wants a good life, a calm life. Murphy doesn't fit into that equation. But here it feels different; Murphy looks different. The pale white moonlight softens his features. It softens the sharp cruelty of his eyes from the vengeful sea to a calm tide rolling in. It highlights sharp cheekbones and pale skin. Bellamy can see the blemishes and minor discolorations in his skin. He can see the chapped skin on Murphy's pink lips. He can see way Murphy's adams apple bobs as he swallows. Bellamy sees discoloration on his throat, faded scratch marks and the ghosts of bruises. He sees circular cigarette burns on collarbones, black eyes. Hands around throats. He looks over the expanse of pale throat and the portion of exposed chest. Beneath his skin lies veins, veins that have been crushed, burst, blossomed in a visual symphony of black, blue, purple, and red. It goes from peaceful to piercing and painful. The dream becomes darker. The black irises of Murphy's eyes dilate and become sharper. The moon and the stars vanish and before blackness overwhelms his vision the last he sees is the look of panicked fury Murphy gave him when Bellamy grabbed him in the garage.

 

His eyes fly open with a gasp and he jerks into an upright position on the couch. The first thing he sees is Lexa. She's in her grey sweats and a red flannel, a cup of coffee in her hand and a book in her lap. He smells slightly burnt toast, eggs, coffee. Lexa looks at Bellamy as he bolts up on the couch. She doesn't startle. She looks up at him and arches a dark brow inquisitively.

"Murphy." It's not what Bellamy means to say but it's the first words out of his mouth before he can stop himself. Lexa pauses. Her lips twitch up into a rare smile and she looks knowingly at him for a moment. She turns her attention back to the pages but he knows she's not reading.

"It's normal to have dreams about your soulmate after bonding occurs." Lexa muses calmly. She always maintains an aura of composure and cool that Bellamy envies. He's sure he looks a mess right now. He can feel the sweat on his forehead, a flush on his cheeks.

"What's wrong?" He hears Clarke ask softly from the doorway. He hadn't even heard her come in.

"Bellamy had a dream about Murphy." Lexa speaks before Bellamy gets a chance into. Clarke chuckles softly. She has a smirk on her face as she comes in from the kitchen and perched herself elegantly on the arm of Lexa's armchair.

"I remember those dreams. Everything is so powerful when you first bond with your soulmate. I still remember it like it was yesterday." Clarke sighs wistfully and leans over to press her nose into Lexa's hair. Lexa leans subconsciously into Clarke's touch. They move together, they're in sync. Bellamy's heard about mirroring in soulmates. Over time soulmates bonds become so strong they are in tune with their mates subconscious movements. Bellamy often wonders what it must feel like to be so in tune with another human being.

"It can be rough, though. Bonding can be like a second puberty. Just horny, all the time, for sexual mates at least. Clarke had those dreams too. Ruined more than one pair of good underwe-"

"It wasn't that type of dream, Jesus Christ." Bellamy burst out in frustration. He felt nauseous, images of bruised throats and angry blue oceans are replaying in his mind. Lexa's smirk fades and she looks at him in concern. Bellamy buries his face in his hands and breathes for a moment before he looks back up. "I don't know, I don't know. I saw Murphy, and things were fine. Then everything got dark, and I just saw choking, but not like choking on something, someone strangling someone. And bruises. And just... I don't know. It doesn't mean anything." Bellamy rambles until he ran out of breath and slumps back onto the couch and tangles his hands into his curls. Lexa's smile fades and Clarke sombers up.

"Well, it could mean something. I've seen the call logs from when the neighbors call, all domestic violence calls. Sounds like your dream could have something to do with it." Lexa reminds him. Bellamy can't help but chuckle dryly.

"So what, meeting your soulmate means what, I can see into Murphy's mind, or his life, is that what you're saying?" Lexa gives him an incredulous look.

"No, that's just something movies made up. Soulmates don't have any special telekinetic powers or anything. But you work with Murphy, have you ever seen him with bruises on his throat, the things you saw in your dream?" Clarke questions gently. Bellamy shakes his head.

"I never paid attention to him. He always has bruises, always picking fights at the shop, with anyone honestly."

"Well you two are soulmates. Things you don't consciously register still register in your subconscious, and now that you bonded with him all the things in your subconscious are coming to the surface." Bellamy doesn't want to listen to Lexa's explanation. It makes sense, but he doesn't like it.

"I hate that word, 'bonded', it doesn't make sense. I don't even know him. I'm not bonded with him. Plus, I don't even like guys like that. No offense to you and Lexa, but I just don't go that way." Bellamy wants to forget about all this. He wants to forget the way his perception of Murphy changed when he heard those words leave Murphy's mouth. Lexa takes in a deep breath and slowly closes her book and sets her coffee mug down on the sidetable.

"I have to get ready for work, babe." She presses her lips to Clarke's briefly before she gets up and slips quietly out of the room. Clarke sits herself down in the armchair where Lexa just sat and pulls her legs up underneath her. Her soft face is pulled into a sympathetic expression as she looks at Bellamy.

"You've never been with a guy before." It's not a question. "You know, I was never with a girl before I met Lexa." Bellamy doesn't respond, he sits silently and gestures for Clarke to continue. She smiles fondly. "I was shocked too. But there was something about Lexa. I think that sexuality is a spectrum, sometimes you think you're one thing, but you're not. Sometimes you meet someone and it's not what you expect, but it's perfect. And sometimes things with your soulmate aren't sexual, like Jasper and Monty." Bellamy looks at her strangely at that.

"What do Jasper and Monty have to do with anything?" Bellamy cocks his head to the side. Clarke grins and is silent, letting him put the pieces together. Bellamy's seen Jasper and Monty together. They're best friends, inside jokes, arrested together, smoking together, they're practically conjoined at the hip. And then it clicks. "Wait, no, that's not right. Monty's with that girl, Harper, and Jasper is with Maya. I've seen them at parties. Jasper and Monty are best friends, not soulmates." He speaks with a certainty that quickly fades when he sees the grin on Clarke's face.

"They are, Bell. Soulmates don't have to be romantic or sexual. Soulmates are just... soulmates. Your match." Bellamy knows she's trying to comfort him but he can't hide the look of disappointment on his face.

"Well... Honestly, if I've waited eight years just for a best friend that's pretty disappointing." Clarke's shoulders sag and she gets to her feet.

"Maybe you should call your sister. She might be able to help. Besides, you should be the one to tell her about it." She recommends kindly. She reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently before she leaves him alone in the living room with his thoughts.

 

"And then you fainted?" She's trying to hold in her laughter, he can see her biting her lip and trying not to grin. He's surprised she answered for a video call at all. He knows she doesn't mean to, but since meeting Lincoln and running off to Guam it's been hard to keep in touch. She's too busy for him now. He holds no grudge against her for it. But Clarke is right. Hearing Octavia's voice does bring him some comfort.

"Not fainted, no, I was overwhelmed and blacked out!" Bellamy protests defensively. Octavia can't contain her laughter anymore and cracks apart.

"So fainted. It's okay, Bell. You've been waiting for this for a long time. I'm just a little surprised your soulmate is a him. How's he taking it all?" She asks curiously. Bellamy's face falls and he hesitates before answering.

"I wouldn't know. I haven't spoken to him." Octavia's look of outrage tells him that was a mistake. 

"What?! Bellamy." She says his name deadpan, glaring at him.

"Octavia."

"Bellamy."

"Octavia."

"Bell! You're a fucking dickhead! I get walking away from him to cool off, but how do you think he feels?" She cries furiously. Bellamy sighs and runs his fingers through his messy hair. It's becoming a nervous habit of his.

"I don't know how he feels about all of this." 

"Of course you don't know how he feels about it! You absolute dick, jesus, what is  _wrong_  with you?! You meet your soulmate and you just fucking ditch him like that?! You waited  _eight_ _years_  so you can just ignore him?" 

"Okay, no, you don't know this guy. He's a fucking asshole, he punched me in the face! Did I also mention he's nineteen? And not, oh he's nineteen, turning twenty in a month or two. No, he's nineteen turning twenty next year. All of this is a huge mistake." He concludes with a defeated sigh. Octavia just glares at him.

"Talk to him, Bell. Don't you remember being his age, desperate for a soulmate, and then you find yours, and they just walk out on you and disappear. How would you feel?" she asks accusingly.

"I'd feel-"

"It's a rhetorical question, Bellamy! You'd feel like absolute shit! So get some balls, and go talk to him! Fuck, Bellamy, you are so thick headed sometimes." 

"I know, I'm a dumbass." 

"Well at least you know it. Just do it. Go talk to him." 

 

And he takes her advice. It's how he ends up standing on the front porch of the same dilapidated looking shit hole Lexa took him to. It looks worse in person. There's a rundown CRV in the driveway that looks like it's seen its fair share of fender benders. The paint is peeling off the sides of the house and he can hear the TV blaring from inside. He feels like a fucking idiot. Murphy won't want to see him, he should just turn around and walk away. But he feels a connection, a desire to just kick the door down and drag Murphy out by his hair if he has to. But instead he just raises his fist, and knocks.


End file.
